People tell me there is no such thing as magic that it doesn't exist. These people come from the polluted world. They come from a place were magic is the 10000 foot tall skyscrapers. Magic there is only mathematical equations and information that only dents your dreams. But is a lie, for I have seen it and lived it, if only for a weekend once a year. It exists in a small town consisting of one gas station and very few streetlights but it does not take place in the town but on the outskirts. Bliss is the name of this town. Strange that such a small town would be named this but I understand fully and completely.


Once a year there is a music festival, filled with people resembling me. It’s funny that there are such a large number of beings similar to such a strange person as myself. The festival itself is not large but I always assumed I was completely and utterly alone in the world of buildings and rules. I guess it’s best that it’s only a weekend instead of something that I can partake in regularly. It makes me soak it in like the summer sun right before fall. My dreams and hopes of magic had diminished to nothing more than memoirs of being young until the night magic appeared to me in its simplest and most amazing forms…


We are in the forest of towering trees that swayed and sung with their dense leaves fluttering like butterflies in a summer breeze. The jade vegetation covered the black sky so we were blind to the gleaming stars. We dance around an enormous bonfire with the flames jumping into the air and sparks floating up into the heavens over us. We jump, shout and laugh because life couldn’t be more wonderful. Every one is beating a drum to a rhythm that is uniquely their own. It sounds as though the forest is alive and smiling down upon the merry group of soul searchers. Every one moves to their own time and yet it entwines with the rest to look like a perfectly synchronized system. We dance from around the burning circle down the path to the open fields. The trees open up and the sky is reviled before us. The drums beat and we twirl, hoot and the stars twinkly and shine with us seeming to sway to the pace of the drums. I cannot let go of the night; I cannot let go of this perfectly atypical world. The bells around my feet chant with every step I take and the world is full of beautiful noise. As the sun comes up as we fall to the ground and smile to ourselves and agree without words that life is incredibly wonderful and the world cannot touch us with its dirty hands of reform…